Page 153 of Arrow

I laughed, the sound bitter even to my own ears. “Trust a Romanov? That’s like asking a lamb to trust a wolf.”

“And yet here you are, little lamb, walking straight into the wolf’s den with another predator’s scent all over you.”

“I’m not a lamb,” I snarled, shoving against his chest. He didn’t budge. “I’m a fucking Virelli.”

“Then act like one,” he hissed, his lips brushing against my ear. “Fight me like you mean it instead of running to some club whore the moment you feel insecure.”

My palm cracked against his cheek before I could think better of it. The slap echoed in the silent room, and for one terrifying moment, I thought I’d gone too far. Arrow’s face remained still, the red imprint of my hand blooming on his skin. Then he smiled, a slow, dangerous curve that made my stomach drop.

“There she is,” he murmured. “There’s my little viper.”

I tried to slap him again, but he caught my wrist this time, pinning it above my head. His other hand came up to wrap around my throat, not squeezing, just holding—a reminder of his control.

“You don’t own me,” I spat, even as my body betrayed me, arching into his touch.

“Don’t I?” His thumb traced the hollow where his chain had rested. “You wear my mark. You sleep in my bed. You’ll be my wife in three days. So tell me, Harlowe, what part of that doesn’t sound like ownership to you?”

His words should have infuriated me, but instead they sent a treacherous heat spiraling through my body. I struggled against his grip, but he held me firm, his body pressing mine into the wall.

“I saw the way you looked at her,” I whispered, voice breaking despite my best efforts. “Like you wanted to fuck her.”

Something shifted in Arrow’s eyes—a flash of surprise, then understanding. “Is that what this is about? You think I wanted to fuck her?”

“Don’t you?” I challenged.

“Svetlana is the daughter of a man who controls half the diamond imports in this city. A man who happens to hate my father almost as much as yours does. This is business, Harlowe. Politics. Not pleasure.”

“Not pleasure? I’ve seen the tabloid photos of you two. I know your history.”

His grip tightened on my throat, not enough to cut off air but enough to make me very aware of his control. “Ancient history. Before you.”

“Before me,” I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “As if that matters in an arranged marriage.”

Arrow’s mouth twisted into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “An arranged marriage where you let another woman fuck you in a cage while strangers watched? Is that what you think this is?”

I tried to look away, but he gripped my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“You’re right about one thing,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “This started as an arrangement. A business deal. Two families trying to stop a war.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “But you know it’s more than that now.”

“Is it?” I challenged, though my voice wavered.

“You wouldn’t have done this if you didn’t think it was.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against my skin. “You wouldn’t care who I talked to. Who I smiled at. You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to hurt me if you didn’t think I was capable of being hurt by you.”

The truth of his words hit me like a physical blow. I had wanted to hurt him. To make him feel the same jealousy that had clawed at my insides when I saw those photos.

“I saw the video,” he continued, his voice lower now. “I watched her hands on you. I watched you come for her. And do you know what I thought while I watched?”

I shook my head slightly, my throat dry.

“I thought about killing her. Slowly. I thought about making you watch.” His fingers tightened in my hair. “And then I thought about fucking you right after, while her blood was still wet on the floor.”

“You’re sick,” I whispered, but my body betrayed me, pressing closer to his.

“So are you.” His lips brushed against my ear. “You came here smelling of her because you wanted this. You wanted to see what I’d do.”

He was right. God help me, he was right. I’d wanted to provoke him, to push him to the edge and see if he’d fall. Or push me.

He slid his free hand under my skirt and cupped my sensitive pussy with a grip that dared me to even try and deny him access. Two fingers grazed the inside, felt the overstimulation, the jitter of muscles not quite finished from before. Arrow’s jaw rocked with the effort it took to hold the next words in, and when he finally hissed them, it was through his teeth.